Laura Grant first heard about SmileSafe on the morning news. The anchor, with a too-wide grin, spoke with unnatural cheer:
"SmileSafe is sweeping the nation! This revolutionary self-help program promises true happiness—just smile, and the rest will follow!"
The program's founder, Dr. Thomas Elwood, had a soothing voice and an air of fatherly charm. In interviews, he explained his philosophy:
"The smile is a bridge between mind and body. Smile long enough, and your brain believes you're happy. It's science."
Laura rolled her eyes as she watched the segment. A seasoned investigative journalist, she had a radar for scams. SmileSafe screamed of cultish manipulation. But what intrigued her were the testimonials.
Everyone who joined was disturbingly happy. Not normal, contented happy—but intense, unrelenting happy. And while their mouths smiled, their eyes didn't match. Their eyes seemed hollow, as though something vital had been scooped out.
Her editor, intrigued by her skepticism, assigned her to write an exposé on SmileSafe. Laura was more than ready to peel back the program's shiny veneer.
Laura began her investigation in the heart of the program: SmileSafe's Happiness Center, a sprawling, pastel-colored building that seemed plucked from a greeting card. The staff greeted her with smiles so bright they were almost painful to look at.
"Welcome to SmileSafe!" chirped a receptionist. Her teeth gleamed unnaturally white. "How can we help you start your happiness journey?"
"I'm here to learn more about the program," Laura replied, forcing a polite smile. She had no intention of joining, but she wanted to see how they operated.
The receptionist handed her a brochure and a free pass for a seminar that evening. "You'll love it," she said, her grin so wide it seemed unnatural, like her face had been stretched beyond its limits.
As Laura left, she noticed other visitors walking into the building—every one of them smiling. Some had expressions so strained they looked painful, as if their faces were stuck in a permanent rictus.
Her stomach turned, but she couldn't pinpoint why. It was just smiling, wasn't it? Exactly. It's just smiling, nothing to worry about, right? her inner voice comforted her.
That evening, Laura sat in a plush chair in a dimly lit auditorium. The seminar began with soft, cheerful music and a video montage of people grinning in picturesque settings—families, couples, children, all beaming with joy.
Dr. Elwood took the stage to thunderous applause. His presence was magnetic, his voice hypnotic.
"Happiness is a choice," he declared. "We've forgotten that. But here, we remind you. It starts with one simple act: smiling."
The crowd erupted in applause, but Laura noticed something chilling. Every clap was perfectly synchronized, every smile eerily identical. It was as if the audience was one organism, a hive mind of joy.
As Dr. Elwood spoke, Laura felt a peculiar sensation creeping over her—a compulsion to smile. It started small, a twitch at the corners of her mouth. She tried to fight it, but the harder she resisted, the stronger the urge grew.
When the seminar ended, she hurried out, her jaw aching from suppressing the grin that threatened to take over her face.
Laura dove deeper into SmileSafe's operations. She interviewed former members, but their responses were bizarre. They all claimed to have left the program but still smiled constantly. Their answers felt rehearsed, as if something was holding them back from speaking freely.
"I've never been happier," one ex-member told her, his grin unwavering. But his eyes… his eyes were desperate, pleading.
Laura's own reflection began to haunt her. Every time she looked in the mirror, she caught glimpses of herself smiling—when she wasn't. Her lips would curl up on their own, her teeth baring themselves in an alien expression. It was as if her reflection was mocking her.
At night, she dreamed of grinning faces closing in on her, their hollow eyes staring. She woke up drenched in sweat, her cheeks sore from smiling in her sleep.
Laura's investigation led her to a disturbing discovery: SmileSafe wasn't just a self-help program. The smiling wasn't a byproduct of happiness—it was the goal. The act of smiling was infecting people, spreading like a virus.
Brain scans of participants revealed abnormal activity in their amygdala, the brain's emotional center. The constant smiling wasn't natural—it was a forced response, overriding their free will.
The final piece of the puzzle came when she obtained a leaked internal document. The file detailed SmileSafe's true purpose: to "reshape humanity's emotional landscape." Dr. Elwood believed emotions were inefficient, and that eternal smiling would usher in a new, controllable human race.
But by then, it was too late for Laura. The Smile Syndrome had taken root in her. She couldn't stop grinning, even as her mind screamed in horror. Her reflection no longer mimicked her—it led her. The smile wasn't hers anymore. It belonged to something else.
Weeks later, Laura's exposé was published, but it was a hollow victory. The article painted SmileSafe as a cult-like threat, but the public barely noticed. The program's influence had already spread too far.
Laura, now one of the grinning masses, stood in front of her mirror. Her eyes, once sharp and defiant, were vacant. The smile on her face was impossibly wide, stretching across her cheeks as if it would split her open.
In the mirror, her reflection moved first. It tilted its head, a sinister glint in its hollow eyes. And then it whispered, with a voice that didn't belong to her:
"Smile. You'll feel better."